


On the Keeping of Promises

by CrazedPanda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chick-Flick Moments, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Harsh, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Spanking, Young Winchesters, belt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda/pseuds/CrazedPanda
Summary: Sam feels his dad has let him down one too many times and decides to do something about it. Not sure how well he thought this one through.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While quite able to stand on its own, this work is technically part of my All Around Me series. In Heart That's Healing, Sam tells the reader a story about a memory from his childhood. I had thought it would be fun to write the full story at the time, but was unsure if anyone would be interested. Edge_of_Clairvoyance encouraged me to go for it and gave me some great ideas to get me started, as well as agreed to beta for me (and did a marvelous job)
> 
> This story describes the spanking of a minor both with a hand and the use of an implement (belt). The author does not condone the discipline method shown here in real life and if it will offend or distress you please do not read it.
> 
> Sam is 8, Dean 12 at the time this story takes place.

 Sam drummed his heels on the side of the bed. His narrow shoulders were hunched and his eyebrows drawn in a scowl as he listened to the sounds of the shower through the thin motel wall. 

The water abruptly shut off with a squeal and Sam's drumming stopped even while his scowl deepened. He could feel his heartbeat pick up, but it only served to harden his resolve. 

  It felt like forever, but it was more likely only a few minutes before Dean emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas still toweling off his damp hair. He paused with a frown as he caught sight of Sam, but returned to his task with a gruff, “Thought you were supposed to be getting ready for bed.”

 Sam took a breath and squared his shoulders. “I'm not going to bed.”

 Dean snorted, “Very funny, Sam. Bathroom’s free, better get moving.”

 Sam decided to keep his mouth shut and just waited, one of his legs jiggling slightly with nervous energy. 

 As Dean reached to hang the towel on the back of the bathroom door, his eyes caught Sam's and he paused. “What's up, Sammy?” he seemed more appraising than annoyed.

 “I'm not going to bed.”

 “Yeah, you said that. You gonna tell me  _ why _ you think you're not going to bed?”

 Dean was still keeping his cool, his gaze searching his like he was trying to read Sam's mind. Somehow the calm response rankled and Sam's reply was sharp. “I don't want to!”

 Dean's eyebrows drew into a scowl of his own, but his voice was still light. “C'mon, Sam, don't be a baby. Just get into your pjs. We can watch tv for a little before bed if you want. Your pick.”

 “I'm not a baby, and I don't want to watch tv.”

 “Jeez, Sam, what's going on with you?”

 “I'm going to the movies.”

 Dean's eyes widened and gave an incredulous chuckle, “You are, huh? Dad would have a cow if you left the motel. Just stop messing around and-”

 Sam clenched his fists at the mention of his dad and he finally exploded. “I DON'T CARE!!! Dad was supposed to be back so we could go to the movies today. He promised!!!”

 Dean pulled back at the venom in his little brother's voice, but seemed relieved to know what was going on. He moved as if to put his hand on Sam's shoulder, but Sam shifted away so Dean let his hand drop. “Dad just got stuck finishing up the job, you know that. He couldn't help it; he'll make it up to us when he gets back.”

 “He  _ can't _ make it up - not to me!” Sam's breath hitched, but he swallowed back the impending tears and grabbed onto his fury with both hands. “He's always breaking his promises! If he doesn't care about doing what he said he would do, I don't have to care about his stupid rules!” he leapt from the bed and stood seething for a minute. 

  Dean did the thing where he moved between Sam and the door without looking like that's what he was doing. “Well then,  _ I'll _ make it up to you. I'll make sure to take you first chance, kay, Sammy? Just get ready for bed.”

 Sam could feel a little of his anger deflate against his will. He knew none of this was Dean's fault. His brother would keep his promise or die trying. He tried to resist, but he could feel his determination waver, if only the smallest bit. 

  “C'mon, Sam, don't be a baby.”

 It was said with a teasing smirk, an invitation for Sam to respond in kind; maybe throw a pillow at his big brother in retaliation, but it hit him exactly wrong, looking for an excuse to stay mad as he was.

 “I'M  **_NOT_ ** A BABY!!! I'm going out, and you can't stop me!” he tried to dodge around and race for the door, but Dean dove, slamming into him and bringing him to the floor. 

 “SAM! Quit it!”

 “NO! Let go of me!” Sam tried to bring an elbow up, but Dean maneuvered to pin him. 

 “I'm not letting you leave the room, Sam.”

 “You gonna tie me up? I'm going no matter what you do!”

  At that Dean sat up a little so he could look Sam in the eye. “You're serious. Look, it's dangerous to be out at night, can't you just wait til morning? I'll go with you. Please, Sam?”

 Sam felt his lip threaten to tremble and didn't trust his voice. His adrenaline was up and he didn't feel like he could back down now, as much as he wanted to. He wasn't able to get good leverage with Dean mostly on top of him, but he managed to kick Dean in the leg with enough momentum to cause his brother to get mad for the first time. “You little- ! You better settle down and get ready for bed if you know what's good for you!”

 “Or what?!”

 Dean got himself back under control, but his voice was scary. “You try to go out that door again, I'm telling Dad when he gets back. If you leave the room, I'm gonna follow you and bring you back. You try to sneak in the theater, I'll make sure you're caught.” He shoved off the ground and stood over Sam glowering, “Just go to bed, Sam.”

 Sam stood, a little shaky with adrenaline and anger. His blood seemed to pound in his ears and he knew Dean was right and he should probably just give this up and go to bed, but he'd been stewing all day, holding out hope his dad would pull through. He'd put off getting in his pajamas, because what if Dad was just running a little late? It was clear, now, that Dad wouldn't be back in time, had probably never even planned on coming back in time. 

 Sam felt like a sucker for believing him. For hoping. He wanted to get back at his dad somehow. To prove he didn't need him. He couldn't back down now. He couldn't just be the dummy following Dad's rules when he had let him down so badly - again. 

 He turned and acted like he was heading to the bathroom, his eyes lowered so Dean hopefully wouldn't see what he was planning. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his brother relax slightly even though he never took his eyes off him.

 As Dean moved to sit on the bed, Sam took his shot. He ran for the door, throwing it open just as Dean grabbed him around the waist. He landed another kick, this time connecting more solidly with his brother's shin, causing Dean to loosen his hold enough that Sam was able to make it another three steps before a hand clamped around his arm above his elbow. 

 Sam ducked backward trying to use Dean's forward momentum to weaken his grip, but he was ready for it and it was only partially successful. Dean dodged another kick before a quiet voice caused them both to freeze. 

 “What the hell is going on here, boys?”

 Dean snapped to attention, his hand didn't leave Sams upper arm, but his grip became more supportive than restricting. Sam held his breath. In times like this he'd learned to keep his mouth shut and let Dean talk them out of trouble. It didn't cross his mind this was going to be any different until Dean’s eyes darted down to meet his expectant gaze. There was something wrong in the brief glimpse he got of the expression lurking there. 

 “I was trying to stop Sam from leaving the room.”

 Sam could feel his mouth open in surprise and clamped it shut. 

 “He said he wouldn't go to bed and he wouldn't listen to me. I shouldn't have let him get out the door, I'm sorry, Dad.”

 Sam's stomach churned with nerves and betrayal. He was too concerned with what his dad's response would be to fully process his disbelief that Dean had thrown him under the bus like that. He shook his brother's hand off his arm and Dean let go without resisting, unable to meet Sam's gaze. 

 “Let's take this inside.”

 At John's command, both boys wasted no time scooting through the door. Their father followed after, securing the latch and dumping his duffles on the floor, before turning to face his sons. 

 “Sam, you wanna explain why you were disobeying your brother and trying to leave the motel room in the middle of the night?”

 Sam tried to find some of the self-righteous anger that had fueled him through the argument and following scuffle with Dean, but found most of it drained away from the shock of Dad's sudden appearance, and Dean selling him out. “You - I - I wanted to go to the movies. You said we could go tonight.”

 His excuse sounded pathetic even to his own ears and his stomach did another flip as his dad's eyes narrowed. 

 “I said I would take you, not that you could go by yourself in the middle of the night. I also said not to leave the room until I got back, didn't I?”

 There was only one acceptable answer. This was not looking good for him. He focused on the scuff mark on his shoe and managed to keep his “yessir,” pretty even, he thought. 

 “And did Dean tell you to stay inside and get to bed like you were supposed to? Look at me when I'm talking to you.”

 He forced himself to meet his dad's gaze. “Yessir.”

 “But you didn't listen to him, and when he tried to bring you back you fought him and kicked him, is that what I was seeing back there?”

 “Y-yes, sir.” He could no longer keep the tremble from his voice. His dad's stern expression and forced calm did not bode well. 

 “Alright, Sam. You’ve got two minutes to get in your pajamas and get your nose in the corner, there, while I decide what to do with you.”

 Sam suddenly couldn't speak around the lump in his throat, but as soon as he could get his legs to work, he rushed to obey, hoping that would count as an appropriate response. 

 John turned to Dean who looked vaguely ill. “I'm sorry, Dad, I should have kept him in line. It was my fault.”

 “Not this time, Dean. Sam knew the rules, and he admitted you tried to stop him. He's going to learn to respect your authority when I'm gone, I'll make sure of that.”

 “But-”

 “You go on to bed, Dean. You're dismissed.”

 “Yessir.”

 Sam had his nose in the corner before his dad turned around. He could hear Dean walk over to the far bed they shared and crawl under the covers. He still couldn't believe his brother had done that. Dean always protected him, even taken punishments that should have fallen to Sam or finding some way to get in trouble too if he couldn't get Sam out of it.

 He dropped that train of thought when he realized Dad was crossing the room behind him. He didn't think he would just start smacking him without warning, but it still made him uncomfortable. It sounded like he was rearranging the duffles, bringing them over closer to his bed and taking a few things out of them. He sat on the bed with a sigh. That was the last noise for what seemed like an eternity. It dragged on until Sam was ready to scream, beg his dad to just punish him already and get it over with.

 “Come here, Samuel.”

 If there had been any doubt before, his dad's  grim tone coupled with his formal name meant his ass was toast. He shuffled over, trying not to look like he was stalling. His eyes met his dad's no-nonsense gaze and just like that, he wished he was back in the corner.

 “I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you know what you did was wrong. Am I mistaken?”

 “No, sir.”

 “Good. Pants down; bend over.”

 Sam hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his pajama bottoms and whisked everything down to his knees as fast as he was able. He was afraid he would lose his nerve, and anyway, Dad did not look kindly on any attempt to forestall a punishment. 

He started to bend over his dad's lap and his dad helped guide him over. 

 There was a second where all Sam could hear was his own rapid heartbeat and then he was gripping his dad's pant leg trying not to start crying out already. His dad didn't believe in drawing out a punishment. Every swat was breathtaking and they rained down on his bare bottom until he lost count and sobbing gasps were punched from his throat against his will. The gasps turned into yelps and small whimpers as his whole bottom all the way to the tops of his thighs was covered and re-covered with burning sting. Abruptly it stopped and Sam tried to muffle his leftover cries into the denim.

 “When I tell you not to leave the room when I'm gone, I think you know I expect to be obeyed. More than that, I expect you to obey Dean when I'm gone. Do you understand me?

 “Y-yess-ssir.”

 “Insubordination has never been something I tolerate. You seem to have missed that lesson, but I plan to fix that oversight right now. You're getting five with the belt, Sam. Scoot over and bend over the bed.”

 Sam was struck numb with shock. He'd gotten a couple licks with the belt before, but never so many and never after his ass had already been set on fire with a thorough spanking. He tried to move, but nothing was cooperating. Thankfully, Dad seemed to know he was trying and helped him over to the bed without tacking on any more punishment. 

 “I swear, Sam, I'd better not be hearing about anything like this happening when I'm gone ever again.” there was a sound of clinking metal and the swish of leather on denim behind him. 

 “N-no, s-s-sir. I promise.”

 “I'm going to make sure of it. The next five times I leave you two alone, I'm going to give you a reminder with my hand. You fail to heed that reminder and I'll be adding licks with the belt. Now you keep still, don't be putting your hands or your feet in the way.”

 Sam didn't have time to sort through the implications of everything his dad was saying, he was busy trying to regulate his breathing and not panic. He grabbed the scratchy blanket for dear life. 

 He managed to keep quiet for the first two licks, clenching his teeth and then gasping a breath. The third one caught him on the underside, searing his behind and the very tops of his thighs at the same time and he cried out. The next was laid right underneath the one before, and his cry turned into sobs. The last blow hit him fully across the middle of his bottom, overlapping where the first two had hit him and he yelled into the bedspread. 

 He was vaguely aware of his dad sitting on the bed next to him, one hand resting on Sam's head. He didn't particularly want to be touched right now, but he was too sore to protest and just lay limp until his sobs subsided. 

 “Do you need help getting to bed, Sammy?”

 “No, sir,” he was pleased that while his throat was hoarse, his voice was steady. His knees were less so, but he managed to remain upright while carefully pulling his pants back up and gingerly making his way to the bathroom. 

 He got a drink out of the faucet and let the metallic tang of the water soothe his throat and quench his thirst. He rubbed the last trace of tears out of his eyes. Everything had gone so wrong. He hadn't proven anything to his dad, he hadn't been sorry for breaking his promise - hadn't even gotten the point. Sam was still the sucker, only now his bottom was burning and throbbing. Maybe if Dean had had his back - 

 He gripped the edge of the counter top. He wouldn't start crying again, Dad would hear and he didn't want him to think it was still because of the whipping. Besides, he was too tired and he didn't feel like he had any tears left. 

 His dad was sitting on his bed watching the tv when Sam came out. He didn't look at him and Sam was relieved. He wished he could just be alone, but the cramped motel room didn't allow for that. He was dreading sharing the bed with his brother after what Dean had done, but there was no other choice, if his dad caught him dawdling he'd get himself in more trouble. 

 Dean was turned toward the wall on the far side of the bed. Sam knew he was awake, but he didn't move or acknowledge him as he got under the covers.

 The tv droned on for a while and his dad got up to go to the bathroom. The bed shifted behind him and Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. “Sammy?” Dean's voice sounded small and it was so quiet he wouldn't have heard it if it hadn't been whispered directly in his ear. 

 He let the silence drag on a while. “What?” 

 “I, I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know he was gonna be so hard on you. You okay?”

 Sam kept one eye on the bathroom door and hissed as loud as he dared. “No! I'm not! Just leave me alone, I don't want to talk to you - traitor!”

 The hand left his shoulder and the bed shifted again. Then, so quietly Sam could barely catch it, came a muffled, “'m sorry.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a bit more pain to go through before things get better. We'll see how he does with these reminders his dad has planned for him. 
> 
> Much thanks to the incredible Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRossetti for providing excellent help, guidance, motivation, encouragement, and beta services.

Dean passed Sam the dripping mug he'd just washed, careful that his brother had a good grip on the slippery porcelain before letting go. Sam dried it and stretched on his tiptoes to put it away.  
“That's the last one! You wanna do something? You can pick what we watch till dad gets back.” Dean’s tone was hopeful, but he wasn't all that surprised when Sam shrugged. 

“I don't really feel like watching tv. I'm just gonna go do some homework.”

Dean's shoulders slumped as Sam turned away to get his book bag from under their shared bed. He knew his brother was a stubborn little thing, but he was taking this a bit far. It had been five days and he couldn't make Sam understand that he hadn't meant to betray his trust. 

He’d been so freaked when he realized that he was powerless to keep his little brother safe if Sammy was determined to put himself in danger. He thought that if, just this one time, he let Sam take an ass warming for it, it would knock some sense into him. That's the way it worked with Dean, but Sammy wasn't wired the same way, apparently. It didn't help that Dad had decided to come down on Sam harder than Dean had anticipated.

Sam’s commitment to giving him the silent treatment had lasted less than a day. Dean wasn't sure if it had proved too inconvenient when living in this close proximity to one another, or it was the dark looks Dad had started throwing his way that convinced him to switch to a different strategy. He now stuck to little jabs administered in a self-righteous tone, like that homework comment, just enough to let Dean know he still wasn't forgiven. 

He had a plan though. His dad had caught wind of a possible hunt and might be heading out later today. Dean had been saving up; if he skipped lunch at school tomorrow he should have enough to take Sam to that movie he had wanted to see and was hoping that would go a long way toward making amends. 

There was a rattling at the door and his dad came bustling in the room. “Dean, I'm heading out.” He held up an envelope and set it on the table. “That should be enough for necessities if you're smart with it.” He tossed him the keys to the impala. “Load my bags into the trunk, I've got something to take care of here.” Dean suddenly got an inkling of what it was and started moving before his “yessir,” had died on the air. 

Dean kicked the door closed, staggering under the weight of both duffles, while his dad went around the room, in an organized sort of frenzy, grabbing odds and ends and stuffing them in his smaller bag. “Sam, I don't have time to mess around, I want your bare butt over the arm of the chair right now.”

Sam was too shocked to move. Something was tugging at his memory, but he had just been lying on the bed doing homework, what could he possibly be in trouble for?

His dad's path took him by the bed and he brought his hand down sharply on Sam's rear causing him to jump up and scurry to obey. “You're getting extra for that, I shouldn't have to repeat myself.”

Within seconds, Sam had pants and all down around his ankles, waiting in position with his forearms flat on the seat of the chair, still trying to get his brain to catch up with what was happening. His dad continued his circuit around the room, but must have noticed Sam's confusion, “Did you not hear me, Sam, or did you think I forgot? As soon as I'm done here, you're getting the spanking I promised you as a reminder to obey orders while I'm gone.”

Oh. He vaguely remembered something to that effect, but as the days passed what little thought he'd given it caused him to come to the conclusion it had just been meant as a future deterrent - if Sam should be so unwise as to repeat his insubordination. He started breathing heavily. What had his dad said? The next five times? Jeez! He hadn't even technically done anything . . . yeah, that was only because Dean had stopped him, but still. And he'd taken his licks for it already, this was stupid!

“Dad, I already got whipped for that; you can't do this!”

He heard a brief pause in his dad's hurried movements only for it to resume as if he hadn't spoken. Finally the footsteps came up behind him and stopped. The bag was set on the floor out of the way. 

“I can do whatever I see fit to keep you safe, Sam. When I'm gone I need to know you're going to obey orders. Last week you proved you needed retraining, so that's exactly what I plan on doing. Sorry if you think it's unfair.” Having delivered this retort, he started landing heavy swats on Sam's upturned bottom. 

At ten, Sam was yelping and teary eyed. His dad started lecturing to the rhythm of his punishment “You will listen to your brother and You. Will. Do. As. You're. Told.” He paused and Sam gasped a breath, “Yessir!”

“You're getting ten more for back-talking and not moving when I said.”  
Sam felt his dad push his torso farther into the chair and whimpered knowing this made the crease where his rear met his legs a better target.  
Sure enough, five swats in a row came down on the left undercurve of his bottom, his dad's large hand covering pretty much the whole area down to the top few inches of his upper thigh. Over and over in the same spot until he was howling in pain, only to have it repeated on his right side. 

Once it was finished, Sam was able to quiet himself to wet sniffling pretty quickly. As much as it hurt when it was happening, the worst of the pain had mostly settled shortly after it had stopped, and Sam didn't consider himself the carrying-on type. 

His dad was still standing behind him and squeezed his shoulder, “Behave yourself, Sam, don't do anything to cause us to have to draw this out any further, and don't make me bring out my belt when I get home.”

Sam didn't move, mostly because he knew if his dad saw his expression right now, it might not bode well for his already sore butt - depending on if his determination to “retrain” Sam outweighed his impatience to get on the road. He did manage to say “Yessir,” in a passably respectful tone

His dad lingered by the door, but Sam remained bent over the arm of the chair watching the last of his tears drip onto the cushion. “Goodbye, Sammy. I have to go, I'll be back within a week.” the door closed hesitantly, as if there was something else his dad had wanted to say, or something he was hoping Sam would say, but he didn't move until he heard the latch click. 

He heard the brief mumble of his dad and brother’s voices on the other side of the door and then nothing. He stood and rubbed some of the sting out of his throbbing rear before swiftly pulling up his pants, wincing slightly. He knew Dean had most likely been listening by the door, but that didn't mean he wanted his big brother seeing his bare red ass. 

He wiped the leftover moisture off his face with his flannel sleeve, his hand in a trembling fist. He headed back to his bed and set his open school books on the floor. Even if his no-good brother didn't tattle on him, if he damaged something he would just be worse off than he was now. Flopping onto the bed, he buried his head in his pillow to stifle the yell of frustration and anger that he couldn't contain any longer.

He heard a small noise behind him and realized Dean had been in the room long enough to witness his outburst. He gritted his teeth; he wasn't in the mood to even look at him. 

After a weighty pause, Dean tentatively broke the silence, “Hey, I'm sure I'm one of the last people you want to talk to right now, but if you want to go for a run, blow off some steam, I can take you somewhere. I'll stay far enough away I won't bother you. Or I can hold a pillow if you want to punch something. You could pretend it was me . . .”

“You were right the first time, Dean. I don't want to talk to you.”

Dean sighed, “Okay, buddy. Just lemme know if you change your mind.” 

Sam could swear he heard him mutter something like, “so much for my brilliant plan,” but it didn't make any sense to him and he didn't really care. He buried his face in his arms and silently cried his frustration into the pillow.

The next few days passed, Dean hadn't even bothered to bring up the movie. Sam seemed determined to keep them both in a state of misery ever since Dad tanned his ass for him before heading out. He was keeping it to little rebellious digs, stuff like walking just a little too far away from him on the way to and from school, and making him say things twice (pretending he hadn't heard the first time) then obeying with a snide comment. Sam had a sharp tongue, and Dean may have been a pretty good big brother, but he was no saint and they'd had several good yelling matches. 

All in all though, even with how mad he was, Sammy was being smart about it. There was a line he was being careful not to cross - on the other side of that line being the types of offenses that might invite a belt whipping - and Dean was grateful for that, at least. 

Firstly, he had a feeling that a hiding with his dad's belt wouldn't improve his brother's mood any. And secondly, if Dean could just hold out till his dad got home, and then get through the rest of these stupid reminder spankings his dad had so brilliantly decided on (of course, his dad didn't have to deal with his prickly-as-a-porcupine brother afterward) maybe then it would be over with, Sam would cool off, and they could go back to being friends again. Dean hoped. 

He was musing over their predicament as he finished making their dinner. He decided to try not saying anything, hoping to avoid antagonizing Sam after the spat they'd gotten into earlier. Maybe if he simply put the hot Mac and cheese on the table, they could just eat their dinner in peace for a change. 

Keys jingled at the door. His dad was stumbling with exhaustion, and he wasn't carrying any of his bags. “Witch skipped town, I'm on her trail, but I had to stop for a few hours sleep.” he kicked off his boots and all but dropped onto the bed. 

Sam and Dean both spent the time tiptoeing when they had to move around the room, eating, cleaning up, and getting ready for bed as silently as possible. Dean even did some homework at the small table, as there was not much else to do that wouldn't be too noisy, and he figured it would at least make him properly drowsy.

Sam was waiting in bed in his pajamas, apprehension starting to build in his gut. Was his dad going to consider this as him ‘leaving them alone’ a separate time, or was this the same hunt so it didn't count? Shouldn't he hope for the former? If his dad was determined to go through with this stupid idea, wouldn't it be better to get it over with as soon as possible?

This was so unfair! It was all his dad's fault anyway! If he had just come home when he promised . . . Or his brother hadn't decided to throw him to the wolves and tattle on him. It's like Dean had wanted him to get whipped for something that wasn't even his fault. 

Dad stirred in the bed. He sat up and stretched, groaning as several joints popped. He eased his head from side to side. “Dean, anything to report?”

Sam tried to be unconcerned, but held his breath waiting for the answer.

“No sir.”

“Dean, you're not doing him any favors trying to shield him from something he's earned. Now, unless you need some retraining yourself, I suggest you look up at me and tell me if there's anything to report, specifically anything regarding your brother's behavior while I was gone.”

Dean snapped to attention, meeting their father's gaze. “No, sir. Sorry! Sam and I haven't exactly seen eye to eye today, but he never disobeyed any orders or did anything to report.”

Which Sam had to admit was not absolutely 100% the truth, but sort of, technically, true enough. 

“Sam, have you been giving your brother trouble?”

“Um, I guess we were picking at each other, but that's just normal brother stuff, Dad. I never did anything insubordinate.” Hey, if Dean wasn't going to say anything, well, he plead the fifth. 

Sam had ample prior evidence his dad knew when his sons were giving him half truths, but after a moment's consideration, he chose to take their answers at face value without probing further. “Fine. Sam, c'mere.” He patted his right knee. 

Sam balled his hands into fists, and he carefully glared at the ground as he climbed out of the one bed and slouched over to the other where his father sat. 

“What was that, Sam? I didn't hear you? And stand up straight; eyes on me. You know the drill.”

Sam tried - more than he had with Dean the past few days, that's for sure - but it would have been obvious to a blind idiot that he was pissed. He mumbled, “Yessir,”

“Sam, I swear, you better drop the attitude.”

Sam was seething, but he was making some effort to sound calm, grown up, “I'm not trying to have an attitude. I'm here, right? Obeyed everything you said - but I still think it's unfair. You can't change my mind, no matter how many whoopings you give me.”

Dean made a choking sound behind him and Sam figured his brother was sure he'd just sealed his fate. Sam was inclined to agree with him. 

Dad ran a hand over his face. “I can't begin to deal with this right now, Sam. Watch the tone and the backtalk. Pants down and over my knee.”

Sam did so quickly, his heart beating out of his chest. The spanking was as hard and stinging as always. After about a dozen swats, even Sam was surprised his defiance was carrying him through: he hadn't yet given in and cried (the tears were from his anger and frustration, they didn't count, okay?) His dad must have tired of it because he tipped him farther over and gave the last six swats to his upper legs, finally causing Sam to cry out, and then it was over. 

His dad righted him and held him steady as he got his balance. He squeezed his arms gently before letting go and sighed. “Sam, this'd go a lot easier on everyone if you could just accept it, learn what you're supposed to from it, and move on. Now, I really do have to go. Behave boys.” 

The door opened and closed, and as Sam got redressed by the light of a single dimmed lamp, Dean's voice came in an awed whisper, ”Dude, I thought you were a goner for sure! Wish we could buy a lotto ticket or something; it's definitely your lucky night. 

“Shut up, Dean.” but his voice didn't hold the venom it had the last few days; he had to side with Dean on this one.

Dean must have noticed the change, he approached him cautiously. “Are, are you okay, Sam?”

“I'm fine, Dean, just really tired, I'm gonna go to bed now.”

“Okay, g'night Sammy.”

“‘Night” Sam crawled under the covers and faced the wall, but he didn't close his eyes. It was possible he had been going about this the wrong way. He had a lot to think about.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited finale. I really hope it was worth it (I feel good about it).
> 
> Huge thanks to my betas Edge_of_Clairvoyance and ToscaRosetti for helping me with this story, encouraging, brainstorming, providing the most excellent beta services, and just generally being awesome, and being huge factors in me being able to complete this and feel good about the finished product. 
> 
> Also thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on this story and showed interest in it. Hope you like it <3

Anyone on the outside would've thought Dean was crazy for not considering Sam's behavior of the next few weeks an improvement. He was respectful, obedient, did everything he was supposed to without being asked, and volunteered for stuff that wasn't even his job, like helping with dinner. 

It was downright creepy. To the point Dean had found himself doing research on body snatchers in his spare time, but all indications so far - including having him set the table with a silver plated butter knife and slipping holy water in Sam's chocolate milk - pointed to the fact that Sam was himself. He just wasn't acting like it. 

When Dad had returned he'd looked at Sam quizzically, but didn't seem perturbed by the odd behavior. So it was just Dean left worrying about what was going on in his little brother's head. 

Dad had ganked the witch, but he suspected she had been part of a coven. He was still trying to confirm it and find the coven so he could take it out. He'd been pouring over news clippings and calling contacts non-stop. 

It was Saturday afternoon, Dad had been out at the library when he returned home with a tense energy that made both boys sit up and take notice. Their instincts were confirmed a moment later. 

“Brennan called me back, he might have a lead on the coven I've been tracking. I'm going to meet him and we're going to go check it out. I'll be back by Tuesday.”

Sam spoke up first, already struggling under one of the heavy duffles. “Here, Dad, I checked the weapons bag this morning, got everything cleaned and repacked. I can take it out to the impala for you.”

“That's great, son, but let Dean do that, I need you in here.”

Sam tried to hide his disappointment as Dean took the duffle from him. “Yessir, um, what did you need me for?”

“It'll only take me a minute to grab what I need for such a short trip, and we have business to take care of before I go.”

Dean saw Sam's eyes cloud over and stopped in his tracks. This was bad. 

“But, Dad . . .”

“Sam.” Dad's tone was weary, but Dean knew that there was a very short step from that into dangerous territory if the recipient didn't heed it. He had a sneaking suspicion Sam wasn't about to. 

“Dad! You said I had to accept it, learn what I was supposed to and I did. I did everything right ever since you've been back! And the whole time you were gone I listened to Dean, I was respectful, I did extra chores. Just ask him! You don't have to-”

“Goddamn it, Sam! Are you really that scared of a spanking? What the hell is the matter with you? I told you what was going to happen. Do you think I'm going to go back on my word and just forget the rest of your discipline?”

“Why not, you always go back on your word.”

Dean didn't remember consciously dropping the duffle. He didn't remember deciding to move, but the next thing he knew he was in between his dad and brother with his arms outstretched. His dad had stepped forward, hands already fumbling at his belt buckle, but hadn't had time to react further when he found himself glaring at the unexpected obstacle. 

“Dean. Get _out._ Of my way.”

“Dad, _Dad!_ You're too mad, you've gotta cool off first, please.”

“I don't have time, Dean. I've got to meet Brennan-"

“Okay, okay, then just not the belt.”

“You don't get to decide how I discipline my son. He deserves a whipping.”

“Maybe. I hear you, but you're too angry, you're going to be too hard on him, and you said you don't have time to cool off. Are you really telling me you won't be able to leave him in a world of hurt with just your hand? Because I have a few memories that would contradict that -”

“Dean.” His dad was still boiling mad, but he was listening.

Dean decided it was time to play his ace. He threw all the terror he was feeling up to the surface so his dad could see his sincerity. “Dad, _please_. Don't hurt him.”

It worked. Dean could tell by the way his dad's face twitched. He tried not to let his sigh of relief show; the smallest mistake could still cause the whole situation to go up in flames.

“Fine. Move.”

There was little more Dean could do besides obey. 

He turned to the side and saw that Sam hadn't budged an inch. Whether this was more because he was petrified or still in defiance, Dean couldn't tell. 

Dad glared at Sam. “I don't want to hear another word out of you. You can't buy your way out of a punishment that you earned. You definitely can't speak to me that way and get away with it. Drop ‘em.”

Sam had apparently got whatever part of his brain that was in charge of self preservation functional again, because he shed his pants and boxers in record time and kicked them aside. 

“Get your ass over here.”

He walked up to Dad mechanically. Dad yanked him close and bent him over, tucking him under his left arm. He wasted no time swinging his hand like a paddle, connecting with Sam's bare bottom over and over, the loud cracks seeming to echo in the room. It wasn't long before Sam was whimpering and his hips moving of their own volition to try to escape the blows. 

Dean tried to shut it out as he did every time Sam was getting punished. It never worked, and this time was no exception. Sam's yelps rose in pitch and volume and Dean could tell his dad was now concentrating on lower on his undercurve and thighs, where he'd feel it whenever he sat down. Sam's cries turned to howls as the punishment continued, and Dean clenched his fists, silently begging his Dad to decide it was enough.

Finally he stopped. Sam's hiccuping sobs were the only sound for several seconds. His dad sat his brother down on the bed right on what had to be a blistered red ass. 

John shot some final orders at Dean while grabbing important papers from his research and tucking them in his smaller bag, hefting the weapons duffle to his shoulder on the way out the door. 

“Dean, get him to bed. You _will_ tell me if he steps a toe out of line while I'm gone. And he will take a belt whipping for it - I'll be as calm as you like. I strongly suggest you not make a habit of what you pulled tonight, are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

The door closed firmly, and the only sound was his brother's shuddery, tear-filled breathing. 

Dean approached him cautiously like he would a wild animal. He put a hand on his shoulder. Sam flinched and went statue still, as if Dean's attempt at comfort was something else he had to endure. Dean withdrew his hand reluctantly. 

“Get up, Sam, lay down on the bed on your stomach.”

If Sam wasn't going to let him help him feel better that way, he'd be damned if he just did nothing. His dad would never find out. And if he did, he'd take whatever punishment he wanted to dish out.

Sam obeyed, stiffly. Dean ached to assist him, but he wouldn't force it on him. 

He broke open their spare first aid kit and got some bruise cream. He gently applied it to Sam's backside down to his thighs where the evidence of his punishment ended. He'd been right, Dad hadn't needed a belt to do a number on Sam’s ass. Dean touched the back of his brother's head when he was done and got that flinch again.

He sighed. “You don't have to get in your pjs if you don't want to, Sam. You can just sleep like this for tonight.”

The sun was going to be up for hours yet, but dad had apparently wanted Sam sent to bed early. Not like Sam would feel up for anything much after that. Hopefully he would be able to sleep; there wasn't much more Dean could do for him. 

“I'm sorry, Sam.” There was no response from the still figure on the bed. Dean settled in for a miserable weekend. 

 

Sam knew that had been a brainless move - one of the stupidest things he could have done. He hadn't been able to stop the words coming out of his mouth even as it felt like there was one part of his brain sitting back watching him sign his death warrant going, “What an idiot! Someone should stop him.” 

He was still very sore when he woke up early the next morning. He forced himself to slip on the loosest pair of jeans he owned. Hopefully Dean would stop feeling obligated to make him feel better if the evidence was covered up; he just wanted to forget about all of this. 

He spent most of the day lying on the bed on his stomach trying to do homework. He found himself having to re-read the same questions because he kept spacing out. He occasionally broke out into tears out of the blue, but thankfully he'd at least been able to hide that from Dean. 

Dean gave him the space he was clearly asking for. He brought him some cheese and crackers for lunch, just left the plate on the bed without a word. Apparently he'd noticed Sam had barely been able to touch the pb&j he made himself for breakfast. 

It was still early evening when the lock clicked and their dad came through the door. He went searching through the stack of books by the night stand while tersely informing Dean, “Lead panned out, Brennan’s out in the parking lot. Bobby, Caleb, and Bill are gonna meet us, this is big.” 

He grabbed two of the books, pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket, and tossed it on the table. “Money - should be enough.”

He looked over at Sam for the first time, then sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He sat down on the bed next to him. “Come here, Sam.” His voice was soft. 

They both felt Dean hovering nearby, biting back the protest on his lips. Sam got up, a pit of dread in his stomach, and went to stand by his dad's knee. Dad's hands were gentle as he lowered his pants to just under his butt. He took equal care leaning him over his lap. 

There was a pause, like his dad was studying his handiwork from the day before. He rested his hand on it and Sam stifled a hiss. He braced himself as the first swat fell.

It . . . It still hurt. But the smack wasn't even at half force. It wasn't even half of _that_. At the eighth spank delivered the same way, Sam felt a small whine escape his throat. His dad stopped, helped him up, and pulled his pants back over his sore bottom with the same caution he'd shown in removing them. He squeezed his shoulders. “I've gotta go. Be good, Sam.”

And with that he was gone. Sam's eyes had remained dry throughout the ordeal, but as the solid thunk of the door closing reverberated throughout the room, he felt moisture hit his cheeks. He moved to wipe them mechanically and in doing so caught movement in his periphery. Dean was mirroring him, dashing tears from his own face. 

The shock alone held his attention. Dean didn't just cry. Not once in a blue moon. He didn't have to ask why though. He hadn't seen him do it in awhile, but he could easily enough recall memories of his brother soothing him after a spanking, and thinking that Dean was taking it harder than Sam himself - even to the point of shedding tears as if he had taken the whooping. 

Suddenly any remaining pig-headedness was gone and all he really wanted was - “Dean!” 

In a heartbeat, his big brother was there, holding him, keeping him from falling as he suddenly found himself sobbing in earnest, face buried in his brother's flannel shirt. Dean somehow got them both to the bed and, after settling himself crosslegged on top of it, pulled Sam into his lap. He shouldn't have fit. Dean was going to say something about chick flicks any second. He had to get a grip and . . .

Like he'd read his mind, Dean's hand went to the back of Sam's head, holding him tighter, and he murmured in his ear, “It's okay, Sammy. I think we've both earned a free pass. Just let it out, little brother.”

That did it. He just let himself cry for a little while, feeling all of four years old. All of the anger and frustration and hurt of the past weeks just came draining out of him; he couldn't recall the last time he'd cried like this.

He wasn't sure how many minutes passed. He didn't remember making the conscious decision to speak, but heard himself wail through his sobs, “It, it, it's not _faaaair!_ "

Dean rubbed his back, holding him through the whole thing. “I know Sammy, I get it. I'm sorry man. It's not fair to you at all. I try, though, I do my best to make it up to you, you know?”

That got through to Sam. He quieted his whimpers and pulled back a little looking up through his still flowing tears. He snuffled wetly “Yeah, I know, Dean. Sorry I was a dick.”

“It's okay, Sammy, I understand why. I did all along.”

“He, _he_ doesn't!” some of the hurt and defiance had returned to his voice. 

Dean paused, choosing his words carefully,“What Dad does is real important, but I swear, he doesn't mean to act like it's more important to him than you.”

“You always treat me like I'm the most important. You're a good brother, Dean. The best. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

“Hey, it's okay. I'll make you a promise, Sam . . .”

He trailed off, clearly worried about his choice of words, but Sam gave him a watery smile. “I'd like to hear it, Dean. I trust you.”

Dean's pleased grin was the best thing Sam had seen in a long time. “Next time we have a problem, we'll settle it between us, deal?”

Sam hesitated, the moment of utter betrayal still raw in his mind, “You never did that before, sell me out like that.”

“No, you're right. And I won't again, but you kinda freaked me out, man.”

“Huh?”

“You just got this stubborn look on your face, and I thought you were really gonna disappear on me. And I was thinking what if maybe I didn't find you in time and something happened to you. I couldn't, I . . . Anyway, I had no idea he was gonna react the way he did. I'm really sorry. I'd sooner have taken the belt myself. You gotta know that, Sam.” he ended softly, hopeful. 

“Course Dean; think I don't know you've taken a whipping for me before? I wasn't thinking straight.”

“Are we - good? I, I really missed you, past few weeks.”

He'd been right here, too close most of the time in the small living space, but Sam knew what he was saying. “Missed you too. C- could . . . Do you think maybe we could go to the movies sometime? I got some quarters saved up . . .”

Dean threw back his head in relieved laughter, “You save your quarters, Sam. I may've had the cash tucked away for a while now.”

Of course he did. Sam felt like a grade-a jackass. He'd already apologized for it though, and he could feel both of their tolerance for the chick flick moment waning. “Guess I'm buying the popcorn then, _jerk_ ”

“Fine, bitch, don't forget the extra butter.”

They sat there for another few minutes, though, both of them apparently equally loath to leave. When Dean did extricate himself to go start dinner he gave Sam a brief hug and a cocky smile. For the first time since that first night, everything was right in Sam's world. 

 

Sam woke up in the middle of the night a couple of weeks later to dim lights and a hushed whisper of voices. A glance at the clock confirmed it was shortly after 3am. 

He got up cautiously to find his brother was putting the finishing touches on bandaging his dad's upper arm. As silently as possible, he got out of bed and hovered nearby, just out of the full lamplight.

“Nice work, Dean, thank you. Mind getting me some whiskey? Left my tumbler on the second shelf next to the bottle.”

“Sure thing, Dad.” Dean turned to obey. 

“Hey, Sammy, sorry we woke you.” His dad sounded exhausted.

“It's okay, Dad. Are . . .? What happened?”

“A scratch, I'll be fine.” something about his dad's tone and demeanor told Sam it had been a closer call than he was saying. He drew closer and put his hand on his dad's arm, staying well clear of the bandage. 

His dad held out his other arm, “C’mere, son.”

Sam came around and leaned into the one sided embrace, wiping a rogue tear on his dad's shirt.

After a moment, Dad gently pulled him back, so they were side by side, but kept his arm around his shoulders. “We took out the coven. Should be home for a little while.” 

There was a weighty pause, “I've, I haven't enjoyed us being at odds over the past weeks, Sam. I'd like to try to start fresh, if we can?”

“I'd like that, Dad. I'm sorry for . . .”

“I forgive you, Sammy. I'd - if you still want to, I'd like to take you both to the movies sometime. I don't know when . . .” He looked up at him with uncharacteristic uncertainty, and Sam gave him a small smile. 

“It's okay dad. We'll go whenever you can?”

“Sounds like a plan. You should probably get some sleep.”

“Yessir.” Dad didn't let go of him, though, and he wasn't about to break out of his hold. He wouldn't mind just staying here leaning into him, soaking up his warmth and strength, as long as he was allowed.

Dean could barely contain his giddy joy at the sight of them as he brought the tumbler and set it on the table in front of them. He took the chair on the other side and the Winchester men enjoyed a rare moment of peace. 

As it turned out, the peace lasted nearly a month. One Sunday, Dad caught wind of a possible werewolf in Kentucky and made plans to head out later that afternoon. He was double checking all three of the bags when Sam cleared his throat.

Dad looked up at him and, nerves going haywire, Sam tried to calmly deliver the words he'd rehearsed in his head, “Sir, I'm ready for my reminder whenever you are.”

The look on his dad's face made him wonder if he'd actually forgotten he had one more coming, or even if he'd planned on letting it slide. That didn't sound like his dad, but . . .

Dad cleared his throat roughly, “Good man. Wait for me on the bed.”

“Yessir.”

He perched on the edge of the bed, trying to stifle his anxiety and watched as his dad finished fiddling with the bags. “Dean, can you take these out to the car?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean's voice was subdued, but not unduly troubled. The door shut behind him and Dad came to sit next to him on the bed. 

“This is the last one.”

“Yessir.”

“I know you think this was an unfair punishment . . .”

Sam squirmed a little on the bed and his dad raised an eyebrow, “What is it, son?”

“I don't. Anymore. I deserve a whooping. I shouldn't have given you and Dean so much trouble.”

“Can you understand that when I'm gone I worry about you; I'm not here to make sure you two are safe. The only assurance I have is that I know Dean is obeying the rules, and you're obeying Dean.”

“Yessir. I won't do it again, I promise.”

“I appreciate that, Sam. Pants down; over my lap.”

Sam stood and obeyed, pulling his pants down to his knees and laying himself over his dad's lap. 

His dad began to spank him at a slow, steady tempo, thoroughly covering his bottom with swats. When Sam was gasping and biting back whimpers, his dad picked up the pace a little and gave some extra attention to the lower part of his bottom and upper thighs. The intensity built until Sam was crying steadily, and with four final hard swats it was over. 

Sam stayed draped over his dad's lap for a few moments until he'd managed to reduce his crying to occasional sniffles. Then his dad carefully helped him up, pulled up his pants for him, and stood. 

“You all right, Sam?”

“Yessir.”

“Alright. I trust you'll mind your brother. Come here.” He grabbed him in a bear hug. “Goodbye, Sammy.” 

“Bye, Dad.”

He ruffled his hair and was out the door.

People always said Sam was a smart kid. He knew Dad was most likely going to let him down again. But maybe Dean was right: just because Dad didn't choose Sam over the job every time Sam wanted him to, didn't mean he didn't care. And Sam was lucky; he had Dean, who would always come through for him, even if Dad didn't. That was a promise he knew his brother would never break.


End file.
